I got up this morning and finished the teaching outline for the AMS mini-school application at UBC. They contacted me yesterday after a two month wait with the news that I’d been short-listed and now they were interested in seeing a syllabus I’d use for the class. This morning I wrote about each week, exploring the idea of using each of the senses as a locus for different genres. Apart from the week by week structure, each class will begin with a writing prompt and this morning I thought of my first prompt to use in the class: the etymology of the word prompt itself, the history of the word, the ideas or words that trail behind it through history. So I went online to the OED and found this:
[< classical Latin promptus action of making available or accessible < prompt-, past participial stem of pr{omac}mere (see PROMPT adj.) + -tus, suffix forming verbal nouns. In in prompt after classical Latin in prompt{umac} within easy reach.] Readiness, preparedness. Only in in prompt: in readiness, at one's disposal. And I was completely uninspired. It was only under the second definition that thoughts started to stir: 1. An act of instigation or incitement. Obs. rare. 1597 J. PAYNE Royall Exch. 27 Common dronckards and carnall lyvers..esteme themeselves as honest and as truly religiouse as the best, and bothe by a subtill prompt of the divill. I love that phrase: "a subtill prompt of the divill" and so here goes my ten minutes of free writing: He felt something stirring in his body but it might have been the beans at that overpriced taco stand. She'd insisted on stopping in spite of the absence of any parking for blocks and blocks. "There." "There." Everything just right and too small in their differences of opinion. When he finally pulled into a parking meter spot, a rummaging through his pockets touched on nothing but lint and ticket stubs to the previous night's concert. She was already in the rear-view mirror walking towards tacos. "Hey, mamacita!" he opened the window and yelled. "Got some change?" "I'll be right back with your taco," she shouted back. He haped she wasn't getting him a taco. Four dollars for one taco. A fancy, free-range, organic, local taco that came out of some local farm from cows that were lulled to sleep by Sarah Mclachlin. He thought about the fight they'd had at the concert and then the sexy blond at the bar who seemed to be perched on his girl-friend's shoulder. He'd kept pretending to think, resting his gaze on her shoulder. They bickered about the number of drinks he'd already had and then the band took the stage and drowned out any hopes a full blown argument. As he sat in the car waiting for her to return, he noticed that his ears were still ringing. He pressed a finger onto the inner flap of his ear. The ringing came into focus and filled his body. He turned his head to look up the street for a meter man or maid. Nobody. After about ten minutes she got back into the car and handed him a taco. Seeing the yellow jacket of a metermaid in his sideview mirror, he quickly ate it and then pulled out. Christ, he hated beans. What did she get him one with beans? He hadn't even wanted one. More trouble to rumble about in the body. Okay there's something from ten minutes of freedom. Nothing great but a good start to the day, an exploration of a fictitious fight and the unconscious promptings of the body. An exploration of a prompt. An exercise I hopefully will get to use next year in my own little creative writing night class at UBC. In the class itself I'll hand out the fuller list of definitions for "prompt" and see what kind of poetry or prose it sparks in students.